


I May Throw Up On You

by lovethecoat51, therealmccoy



Series: On Our Way to the Stars [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethecoat51/pseuds/lovethecoat51, https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealmccoy/pseuds/therealmccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, they met on the shuttle, but what led them there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I May Throw Up On You

It was morning. 7:45 am. If James T. Kirk ever bothered to set an alarm, it would have gone off an hour ago. But that didn't matter; Jim hadn't slept the night before. Despite the blinding hangover that was slowly creeping into his head, he was buzzing with energy. Not the kind of energy that would drag him out of bed, but the kind that sent his mind racing. And that very same energy was willing him to get up and actually make something of himself.

_Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's. And yours. I dare you to do better._

Captain Pike's words were ringing in his ears as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It always came back to George Kirk somehow. That was the standard Jim - and his mother - measured himself by, the standard Jim always seemed to fall short of. Here was his chance to prove that he was as good as- no, here was his chance to prove he was _better_  than the moron that cared more about a fucking _ship_  than his own family. 

And there wasn't a single dare Jim had ever shied away from.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. He had exactly 7 minutes to make it down to the shipyard and make it onto that shuttle. He could do it. Probably. He'd have to run every single light, go twice the speed limit, and avoid both the police and the poor saps on their way to work - but that's what made it fun, the challenge. With a grin, he grabbed the keys to his step-father's bike and headed out the door.

\---

At 6 am in the morning, Leonard McCoy was sitting on his couch. Actually, it was now his ex-wife's couch, along with the house and the whole damned planet.

Leonard had never been one for exploration and adventure. He had a quiet life as a country doctor and he had always been happy with that. He had his practice, his wife and a little girl named Joanna. He didn't need more. He didn't _want_  more. Unfortunately... his wife had different plans.

_Lack of ambition. Stagnation. Boredom._

The reasons Jocelyn had listed in the divorce papers were many and to be honest, Leonard had never really bothered to read the whole damned thing. It didn't matter what her reasons were, there was nothing he could do to fight it anyway. She wanted a divorce, so he gave her one. And maybe it was the very fact that he never bothered fight to keep her that turned her so bitter that she felt she had to take _everything_  from him. Everything he cared about. Which meant his practice, and the adorable little nine year-old currently asleep in his lap. Little Joanna, who was clinging to him as hard as she had done the previous night when she cried herself to sleep in his arms. She didn't want him to leave, and neither did he. He didn't really have a choice, Starfleet was his only option. His wife, _ex_ -wife, had seen to that.

-

At 7 am, Leonard had still not moved from that couch. He was-as he had been all night- still holding his sleeping daughter in his arms and was unable to let go. He didn't move because didn't want her to wake up. If she woke up, it meant that tomorrow had become today, and he was leaving.

Of course, as always, things didn't go the way Leonard wanted them to. His ex-wife woke and came to take his Joanna out of his arms. "It's time to go, Leonard." And with that, she took his daughter away, and left him there alone.

He thought about going after them. Of waking Joanna up and saying goodbye, but he wasn't strong enough. Tears were already pooling in his eyes. So he took the coward's way out and left without a word. With no goodbye, no luggage, no ties to his old life. With nothing but his bones, and a broken heart.

\---

Downtown Riverside was blissfully quiet. A couple shop owners were unlocking their doors and setting their sale placards out on the sidwalk. The local cafe/bakery/grocery store was knee-deep in their morning rush of a dozen people. It was a typical day in rural Iowa.

Then Jim tore through Main Street. Papers scattered in the motorcycle-induced gusts, birds raced to get out of his way, and more than a few people yelled at that crazy kid to slow down before he got himself killed.

Jim paid no attention to any of that. His mind was focused on the time display on the windshield. 7:56, it read. 4 minutes to go. There was no doubt in his mind that he would make it on time. He even let himself sit back and relax a little as he passed fields of freshly planted soybeans.

Until he heard the sirens, that is. He rolled his eyes and sped up. He loved a good game of chase as much as the next motorist, but today, he couldn't be bothered with it. After two miles, the officer still hadn't given up and Jim decided to take matters into his own hands. He had a shuttle to catch, after all.

He pulled into one of the fields and skillfully sped down the rows of crops, managing to not hit a single plant. The cop quickly followed and soon was right on his tail.

"Citizen," came the robotic voice. "Please pull over."

"Like hell, I will..." Jim muttered as he pushed the bike closer to its top speed. He scanned the area, looking for anything that might give him an edge. Given that he had two wheels on the ground while the officer chasing him was hovering, he was grossly out-matched. But that never kept him from outrunning the law before.

Up ahead in the distance was a rare sight in the Midwest: land that had elevation. If Jim could maintain his lead, he could easily out-manuever his lawful foe once they reached the hills. Hoverbikes were great for speed and all, but few people knew how to handle them well enough to do anything less than a 6-point turn on a two-lane road. Jim was counting on this little fact to pull him through. That, and a little luck.

He spared a glance at the time display. 7:58. Well, now the challenge was back. He smirked to himself again, feeling the adrenaline hit his system and urge him to test what exactly the bike's top speed was, regardless of what the spedometer said.

As it turned out, he managed to eek an additional 15 mph out of the engine before the whole bike started shaking uncontrollably. That didn't make him slow down, though. The hills were just a few hundred feet away, and if he could zigzag through them, he would win this particular little race.

Suddenly, he heard a little POP! and the sound of an engine rapidly decelerating. Jim looked back over his shoulder and saw the hoverbike grind to a halt as the police officer hit the side of it. Chalk another victory up to James Kirk.

He leisurely wound his way through the hills at 90 miles an hour, realizing that he was, in fact, right outside the shipyard. The sheer randomness of the universe never ceased to amaze Jim. Why the hell _anyone_  would built parts for a spaceship in the middle of farm country, he could never explain. Nor could he understand why that same shipyard was the Midwest's primary hub for Starfleet recruits before they went to the Academy.

He didn't understand and he didn't really care. Whatever the reason, it was there. And so was he. Driving up the last hill, his eyes fell on a sight that actually made him slow the bike down to a stop - a stop he probably couldn't afford, but he didn't care. Not when he considered what lay before him.

The Enterprise. Simply looking at her, Jim got the tiniest inkling of understanding as to how a man could direct so much affection and devotion to nothing more than a pile of steel, bolts, and plasma.

Maybe Pike was on to something when he said he should enlist. Jim was about to find out.

\---

Leonard was trying to read while waiting for the monorail to reach the shipyard. He was trying to keep calm, to keep his mind off of his destination, but the universe loved to play cruel jokes on him.

"Space: The Final Frontier"

His seat-the _only_  available one when he got on-was located _directly_  in front of a promotional poster for Starfleet. 

"Enlist in Starfleet. Join the galaxy's peacekeeping armada. Explore the last boundaries known to man." It said and went on about how exciting and amazing a life you would have if you joined the Fleet. Every image that flickered across the poster screen showed peace and tranquility. Perfect inter-species cooperation and somehow everyone were laughing. Even the Vulcans. It was mocking him and he couldn't stop staring at it. The poster lied. Space was nothing but disease and darkness. And death.

Leonard's stomach churned a little. Man was not supposed to fly. If they were, they would have _wings_. And they were certainly not meant to fly out into space. There were 3982 various space-related diseases, and counting. The further mankind explored, the more they discovered new ways to die from painful illnesses. 

-

When his stop finally came, Leonard had to force himself out of the seat. As a doctor, he could almost step out of himself and point out all the symptoms of a pending panic attack. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing. His head felt like a one of those antique tumble dryers that people used to do their laundry in. His knees felt weak as he stepped out and headed down the shipyard.

He stopped and looked up at the massive construction blocking the sun out. Why the blazes someone would choose to build a spaceship out in the middle of nowhere, Iowa, was beyond him. Not that he cared much. All he could see when looking at the Enterprise was nothing more than a pile of steel, bolts and plasma. And that was _all_  that was supposed to keep them safe out on the vacuum of space. 

Leonard's stomach growled again and he turned to run and catch the monorail before it left again. But every time he turned back, he remembered why he was leaving in the first place, and suddenly dying of something like Rigelian fever didn't sound so bad.

So he kept walking-however slowly-towards his shuttle and with each step he started feeling a bit more confident that maybe he could do this. Maybe this wouldn't be all that bad. He was almost perfectly calm as he reported to Captain Pike, and his heart rate was back to normal as he stepped onto the shuttle.

But.. then he took one look around in that small, over-crowded, weak hunk of metal that was supposed to fly him safely half-way across the country.. and he vanished into the bathroom, with no plans to leave until they were safely grounded on Academy soil.

\---

Jim rode through the shipyard like a conquering hero. Most people watched him as he passed by; he certainly stuck out like a sore thumb, being the only one not only on a motorcycle, but also not in uniform. He almost felt bad for these tools - they'd probably spent their whole lives trying to get a shot at Starfleet, suffered through years and years of schooling to get into the Academy, and here he was, handpicked by Captain Pike himself, strolling in here on a whim, and completely unsure if he'd even stick with the whole thing.

Then again, they probably also didn't have to live with a step-father who liked to use him as a punching bag, a mother who was too far away to interfere, and the knowledge that the same "achievement" that made his real father a national hero also deprived young Jim of just that, a father and a hero. Things seemed to even out when he thought about it that way.

He spotted Captain Pike and parked right in front of the awaiting shuttle. A nearby worker eyed the motorcycle up and down. "Nice ride, man," he said.

"It's yours," Jim said as he pulled the key out and tossed it in the worker's hat. The fact that it wasn't his to give away made Kirk's smile that much bigger. As he walked past Pike, he quipped, "Four years? I'll do it in three."

No one could claim James T. Kirk was an underachiever.

With a giant grin, he walked into the shuttle and looked around. Cadets in their shiny red uniforms already occupied most of the seats, nervously chatting with their benchmates. Again, Jim started a mental mocking of the pitiful bastards who'd probably wet their pants before they even left the atmosphere. And then he walked right into an overhanging beam. It did nothing to help his already pounding headache.

But he recovered quickly enough. Barely anyone had noticed the loud clang of skull hitting steel, or so he told himself. He walked down a crowded aisle and noticed a few faces that jogged his memory of the previous night: the three overgrown barbarians that had tried to take him on sat there with their jaws slack as he passed and lazily saluted them. "At ease, gentlemen."

Turning down another aisle, he took an empty seat and started strapping himself in. He glanced around to see his own benchmates, and noticed yet another familiar face: that hottie from the bar that started all that trouble. What was her name again? Uluru? Uhura? Something like that...

"Never did get that first name," he said casually.

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

Jim started to say something else, but was interrupted by a commotion coming from the end of the row.

\---

There was a knock on the door. Leonard ignored it as he buried his head in his hands. There wasn't a single cell in his body that wasn't trying to get him to run off the shuttle. This whole ordeal was tearing him apart in so many ways. One of them being that he was a _doctor_ , dammit! He was supposed to be the one on the other side of that door, knocking. Not the one locked up in the bathroom, throwing back whiskey like his life depended on it.

"Sir, you need to come out! We can't take off without _all_  the passengers seated and accounted for!"

Frustrated, Leonard shouted his name and position at her. There! That would make him "accounted" for! And he _was_  seated. Seated firmly down on the lid of the toilet and he wasn't about to get up anytime soon. 

"Sir, if you don't open this door, I _will_  have to force it open!"

Leonard ignored her. He _had_  to stay in there. It was the only place in the shuttle with no windows. What kind of moron puts _windows_  in a shuttle anyway? What's out there to see but blackness?

Just then the door flew open and an officer who was a lot stronger than her form would make you think pulled him out of the bathroom and towards the seats.

"You need a doctor." 

"I don't need a doctor, dammit, I _am_  a doctor!"

"You need to get back to your seat." 

She wasn't listening. Leonard tried to explain how he had a perfectly good seat in the bathroom, with no windows. He calmly-to his ears- explained how he has a condition. How aviophobia means he suffers from a fear of dying in anything that can fly. But she wasn't listening and now she was threatening him too. So much for a peacekeeping armada. Military folk were all the same. No matter what they called themselves.

With a grumbled "fine", Leonard slumped sulkingly down in a vacant seat, next to some pretty boy who looked like he'd tried to play with the big boys and failed miserably. Leonard buckled himself in and as the captain told them to prepare for take off, he felt his stomach churn again.

"I may throw up on ya."

Well, so much for hello. 

Jim looked at his neighbor, and damned if he knew if the guy was joking or not. "I think these things are pretty safe," he said, slightly dubious as to how someone with a weak stomach would ever manage a warp jump.

Leonard glared at the kid and was not amused by the slight condescending tone. "Don't pander to me, kid, one tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in 13 seconds. A solar flare might crop up and cook us in our seats." He said as he continued to try and figure out the seat belts and just generally glaring at everyone. "And wait until you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you're still relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is disease and danger wrapped up in darkness and silence."

It took everything Jim had in him to not roll his eyes. It took talent to be _that_  pessimistic and yet still be willing to leave Earth. Talent, or stupidity. It could have gone either way with a rant like that. "Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space."

Leaning back in his seat, Leonard almost snorted and suddenly looked as if he'd just given up."Yeah, well, got nowhere else to go, ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce, all I got left is my bones." He said mostly to himself, bitterness dripping off every word. And with that out and still burning like acid, he pulled out his flask again and took a sip, then offered the kid some. Even if he didn't even look old enough.

One of _those_  stories. Jim didn't push it, and whether it was because he was being polite or because he didn't care was anyone's guess (although it was probably more of the latter). He took the flask. "Jim Kirk."

Hey, look at that! The kid actually had the brain not to push the matter further. He hadn't expected that and was pleasantly surprised. He had always liked people who knew when to shut their traps. "McCoy. Leonard McCoy."


End file.
